


A Little Family

by epicfrenchfry, Megalomaniacal



Series: sick of living in the eye of the storm [13]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 03:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20771783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicfrenchfry/pseuds/epicfrenchfry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalomaniacal/pseuds/Megalomaniacal
Summary: A collection of domestic stories about Damon and Skinner’s life on the farm after the events of “Most of Me Needs You.” Updated randomlyWorking title. It will change.





	A Little Family

They had been home for less than week when Ben took them out shopping. Normally, Skinner loathed shopping. He hated going out in public, hated being called Donnel, and hated how antsy and nervous the whole affair made him feel. However, the kind of shopping trip they were embarking on had fully caught his interest.

They stood in a barn, and several young horses milled about in front of them. Ben was grinning proudly, watching them look. Damon had his eyes on a gorgeous golden stallion, while Skinner was stroking the muzzle of a slender dapple gray mare. The horse nickered softly and tossed her head, and Skinner laughed. Delighted, he turned to Ben.

"How many are we getting?"

"You like those two? We'll get two," Ben replied.

“Yeah?” Damon turned to Ben as well, his whole face lit up with excitement. “We can get both? You hear that, buddy?” He turned back to the stallion, reaching out to softly stroke its golden mane.

The horse nudged against him and pawed the ground with a hoof. The mare seemed fond of Skinner, nuzzling his hand as he patted her velvety nose.

"Them two?" The seller ambled over to them, wiping his hands on an already filthy rag and slinging it over his shoulder. "They're both only just over three years old now, in prime condition for showing, or whatever you wanna do with 'em. Already trained 'em up for riding and everything."

“They seem very well trained. Very beautiful.” Damon beamed, not taking his eyes off his- or the farm’s, really- horse. He patted its head, stroked its mane some more. It was such a pretty thing, long legged and slim, just like him. They’d have matched in color too if his hair weren’t currently pink. “Be- Royce you’re buying them, right? Royce? You’re buying me horses?”

"Us," he said, "but yes. I'm getting us horses. How much, sir?"

As Ben and the seller discussed prices, Skinner led his gray mare over to Damon and the stallion. "Her halter tag says Silky but I'm not calling her that for the next twenty something years. I'll have to change her name. What's his name?" he asked, reached out a hand to stroke the golden horse's mane.

Damon turned to Skinner with a wicked little smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Goldsie Woldsie Horsie Worsie.”

It was a joke, but he said it seriously enough that Skinner would be annoyed with him.

Skinner stared at him for a moment. "If you think I'm— No, I'm gonna go over here. I'm not a part of this. Sorry, man," he said to the horse, and promptly led his mare away. She followed obediently, hooves clopping softly on the straw-covered floor.

Damon burst out laughing, smiling widely at his horse. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” He told him, patting his large horsey head. “What is your name, big guy? What should I name you? Damon junior? ... no.”

The horse blinked at him.

“Okay, okay, no more jokes. I get it, jeez.” Damon snorted. “How about... King? Prince? Something regal, something strong...” His eyes went suddenly wide as he turned to Skinner and shouted, “Lord Horse!”

"Lord Horse?" Skinner echoed. "Better than Goldie Woldie Horsie Worsie. Yeah, fine. Whatever. Good day to you, Lord Horse. This is Lady Bethany."

“Lady Bethany!” Damon gasped, lighting up. “I love it! Lady Bethany and Lord Horse.” He patted him again. “Ben! Are they ours yet? We’ve named them!”

"Yes, yes, don't worry." Ben was working out payment as they spoke, and the seller was chuckling at Damon's enthusiasm. Skinner was combing his fingers through tangles in Lady Bethany's mane, smoothening it until the white hairs lay silky soft against her neck.

“Lord Horse!” Damon said happily. He was growing antsy, but soon enough Ben was turning around with the seller and heading over to lead the horses to the horse trailer they were renting. Damon was sad to let Lord Horse out of his sight, but he couldn’t exactly have him in the backseat.

“Can we go yet, B- Royce? Can we?”

"Yes, yes, don't worry. We're on our way. Donnel, come on. We have enough dogs."

Skinner glanced up, giving Ben a withering look, but stepped away from the puppies. Six little hounds were romping in the straw while their mother looked on, and Skinner really wanted one, but Ben had a point. Eight dogs was a lot, and two cats, and now two horses. Plus some cows, and a goat. They had a real farm going on.

The two horses went into the trailer and Ben shut the gate behind them. Skinner could see Lady Bethany's muzzle at the window, and he reached up to pat it.

“You’ve gone soft.” Damon teased, coming up behind Skinner and wrapping his arms around him. “You big softie.”

"Oh, and you haven't?" Skinner twisted in his arms and grabbed Damon by the waist, dipping down to kiss him. Ben paused beside them, giving them both an amused look.

“Mmm, I love you.” Damon murmured, lips moving against Skinner’s as he spoke. “But we should probably make out in the car, so Ben doesn’t get impatient.”

"He has a point," Ben chimed in. "Come on, you boys, get in the truck. You were the one so excited wanted to leave."

"Yeah, Reggie," Skinner said playfully. Damon had never actually picked a fake name beyond the one he gave as a joke, and Skinner sure as hell wasn't going to call him Reginaldo. "Get in the truck."

“Alright, alright.” Damon waited for Skinner to get in first, so he could climb in and plop himself right on top of him, a stupid grin on his face. “Don’t wanna keep Lord Horse waiting either.”

"Lord fucking Horse," Skinner scoffed. He buckled the seatbelt around the both of them, reaching around the front of Damon's chest to do so. "You're a brat, you know that?"

“Yeah, but what’d I do this time?” Damon turned his head, planting a kiss on Skinner’s cheek. “I’ve been a perfect angel all day.”

"There's an empty seat right next to me," Skinner murmured, "but I know you're going to spend the whole drive grinding that pretty little ass against my dick." He licked up the side of Damon's neck, nipping the skin.

Just then, the driver side door opened and Ben climbed in.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Damon purred, turning back to smile at Ben as he glanced back at them. “Hi Ben! Let’s get these horsies home, eh?”

"Yeah, let's. And try not to screw each other in my backseat, okay? Don't think I don't know about last time." Ben shook his head. They had borrowed his truck barely a week into being home and when he got it back, it reeked of sex and there was a suspicious stain in the backseat.

“Hey! How do you know about that?” Damon exclaimed, but then he burst out laughing. He wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed at all. “It was good sex, Ben. It was really good sex.”

"Isn't it always?" Skinner teased, running his hands up Damon's thighs.

"Have it at home. In your bedroom. Or if it has to be a car, do it in Grunt's," Ben begged.

"Grunt's car is gross," Skinner pointed out.

“Grunt leaves his bottles full of spat out chewing tobacco on the floor of the car!” Damon made a face. “It’s gross. And Sour Alyn drives his car all the time, so it reeks.”

"Grunt doesn't smell too great either," Skinner remarked. "Please don't revoke our truck privileges, Ben, our only other option is shit. Unless you buy me a motorcycle?"

Ben sighed good-naturedly. "I just bought you horses. Can the motorcycle wait until we have a little more income?"

"Yeah. We'll just have to ride the horses around." Skinner sulked, resting his chin on Damon's shoulder.

“We can’t fuck on a horse!” Damon protested. “And why does Grunt get a car and none of us do? Make him clean it!”

"Grunt found his own car, rather than begging me to buy him one," Ben said. "You can't screw on a motorcycle, either."

Damon huffed. “Well... fine. But you should still tell Grunt to clean his car! It’s gross! Have you seen it?”

"I haven't, but it sounds like I need to. You know, you could look for a motorcycle. There's dozens of old lots around where you could find a used one."

"I want a new one," Skinner said, narrowing his eyes slightly to adopt a challenging look.

“Me too!” Damon chimed in. “A nice, shiny new one. We don’t need two! We can share one! Just one!”

Ben sighed again. "It's in my plans for what's next, okay? Just bear with me. I can't afford it right now, we're not exactly rich anymore."

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks, Ben," Skinner said happily.

“Okay!” Damon settled down, happily letting his back press against Skinner’s chest. “I could give horse riding lessons? I’ve never ridden a horse myself, but...”

"Maybe you shouldn't give lessons, then," Skinner laughed. "Ben could? Right, Ben?"

"Damn kids, wanting me to do everything around here," Ben muttered. Skinner and Damon both grinned. "Yeah, we could do lessons. How about I teach you both, and then you could offer them?"

“I want to give lessons!” Damon perked up again. “Yes! Perfect!”

"Alright. Just don't get too ahead of yourself, okay? I don't want any kids with broken limbs trying to sue us."

"Yeah, Ben, we'll be careful," Skinner assured him. If any kids hurt themselves, Skinner would make sure it was the last time.

“We can’t kill the kids, Skinner.” Damon pointed out, noting Skinner’s tone. “We’d have to kill the families, too. That’s too risky. Too much killing. Anyway, I don’t like hurting children.”

"Yeah, I guess not." Skinner rolled his eyes. "They're like... Human puppies. Too stupid to know any better. And too messy, once you get into the family nonsense."

“Puppies are better. So are kittens.” Damon sighed happily. “Our kittens are waiting back home. Stepphie and the Weens.”

"We're heading home. Twenty minutes. Can you make it?" Skinner murmured, squeezing his hip to still him. "I know you're excited to ride your horse, but you need to stop squirming. Otherwise," he dropped his voice lower, "you might have to ride something else, and you might be too sore for the horse after."

Damon audibly moaned, earning a dirty look from Ben in the rear view mirror. He pouted and huffed, “Skinner, I’ll ride your dick after I ride my horse.”

"Stop squirming, then. It's only twenty minutes. If you can't manage it, get off my lap."

"Play nice, you two. Don't want to deal with arguments, either," Ben reminded them.

“I’m excited, you jerk!” Damon huffed, but settled down with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his lips curved down in a pout. “Don’t worry, Ben. Skinner says no one can have fun in this vehicle.”

"I agree. Not the kind that you're thinking of, anyways," Ben chided. "I'll say it again, no more sex in the truck."

"Don't worry," Skinner snarked. "Damon wants to ride the horse first."

Damon rolled his eyes. “And you call me impatient. Do you hear yourself? I ride you all the time, but the one time I want to ride a horse, suddenly you’re neglected.”

Skinner grumbled, choosing not to answer, but he was smirking in obvious amusement. Ben was shaking his head with still a hint of mirth in it, and watched in the rearview as Damon twisted to stare out the back windshield at the horse trailer, searching for glimpses of his horse's face through the narrow windows. When they finally did arrive back at the farmhouse, Damon was the first out of the truck, followed slightly more slowly by Skinner around back to the trailer, and Ben began to wonder what exactly he had gotten himself into.


End file.
